it exists in places so dark,

that in my own darkness,

I, too, could not visualize,

but, deep down in those dark days,

Day after day, I searched

High and low,

And eventually found that very love

wilting away, withering to smithereens,

And patiently re-learned to resurrect,

Through memory what

I, my mind, and conscience had

consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously

misplaced, only to at last joyously

greet it, reclaim it, actualize it,

post a long-awaited wait,

A personal perusal,

dramatized over thirty-three years,

to rightfully and with purpose,

witness a sweetly serene union

with love, my old sweetheart, and now,

in this moment, my heart, armed with

purposeful love, beats stronger with nourishing beat, beat after beat

And look, world, it says hello to you, too,

And rejoices to tell a tale of love,

A love that lights the confines within me,

To guide me through

The darkest of paths,

To once again back to its origins:

To light itself.

Today, ten years later, following what was an official diagnosis of bipolar disorder, I put to rest the demon shapeshifting in my mind, thrashing around violently, to make itself heard, just as loud as its comrade, old crony, and confidante, the one entwined dichotomously, entrapped in the mind, the one giving and sustaining life.

Ten years ago, I underwent a most explosive blow, that rendered me without control. As I gasped, submerged under water, in nightmares triggered during waking, as well as, sleeping hours, finding new ways to breathe, so I could exist again, I was at once slapped right back, to crawl back alone again, and, again, and again once again, out of the hole that fate and circumstance had decided to deliver onto me, my trifecta of selves, the past, present, and future.

Three days ago, again, I underwent trauma that flaunted itself ever-so-unabashedly. I endured my second brush with an attack associated with manic madness -a manic attack. And in all the darkness, I held my hand, not letting go, and re-acquainted myself with reasonable light, in order to re-introduce it to reason itself.

Alas, at last, I learned to cancel and delete the shapeshifting shapeshifter, and nourish it with self-worth, that had escaped from the very tips of my ten fingers.

I found love trapped inside of me.

This is survival, respected sirs, and most gentle ladies, a lesson only life itself could teach that innocent, naive, most beautiful flower child/girl/woman.

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